ANNETTE [_going out_] Yes, yes. I’ll go and put on my hat. LUCIE [_to Brignac_] They want Annette to spend a few days with them in the country. Ought we to let her? BRIGNAC. Why not? She wants to go. You know how fond she is of Gabrielle. LUCIE. Yes; but Gabrielle has a brother. BRIGNAC. Young Jacques. But he’s going to be married, my dear. LUCIE. Is he? BRIGNAC. Yes, yes, of course. [_Annette comes in from the left_] Make haste, Annette. LUCIE. What does it matter if she’s five minutes late? ANNETTE. No—no—Where _is_ my music? LUCIE. You look quite upset. Would you rather not go? ANNETTE. Yes, yes, I’ll go—Good-bye. [_She hurries off, forgetting her music_]. LUCIE [_calling_] Your music! [_she holds out the music-case_]. ANNETTE. Oh, thank you. Good-bye. [_She goes out_]. LUCIE. Don’t you think Annette has been a little depressed lately? BRIGNAC. Eh? Yes—no—has she? Have you found a new parlor-maid? LUCIE. Yes. BRIGNAC. There, you see! You were worrying about that. LUCIE. I had good reason to worry. I’ve been without a parlor-maid for a week. I liked a girl who came yesterday very much; but she wouldn’t take the place. BRIGNAC. Why not? LUCIE. She said there were too many children here. BRIGNAC. Too many children! Three! LUCIE. Yes: but the eldest is three years old and the youngest two months. BRIGNAC. There’s a nurse. LUCIE. I told her that, of course. BRIGNAC. Well, I declare! And when you consider that it meant coming to the sous-préfet! LUCIE. I suppose she’s not impressed by titles. BRIGNAC. And what about the one you have engaged? LUCIE. She’s elderly. Perhaps she’ll be steady. BRIGNAC. Yes, and have other vices. Still— LUCIE. The unhappy woman has two children out at nurse, and two older ones at Bordeaux. Her husband deserted her. BRIGNAC. Too bad of Céline to force us to turn her out of doors. LUCIE. Her conduct was bad, certainly. All the same— BRIGNAC. Oh, it was not her _conduct_! She might have conducted herself ten times worse if only she had had the sense to keep up appearances. Outside her duty to me her life was her own. But we have to draw the line at a confinement in the house. You admit that, don’t you? [_A pause. Lucie does not answer_] It was getting quite unmistakable—you know it was. Those wretched grocer’s boys are a perfect scourge to decent houses. [_He takes up a paper_] This circular is admirable. LUCIE. Is it?